


Dark Corners

by Caelum (zanarkand)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cuddles, Drinking, F/M, FFXV Kink Meme, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Spoilers, Mostly Gen, Non-Consensual Touching, OT4 hints, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, in-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanarkand/pseuds/Caelum
Summary: Gladio leans against the closed door, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself and shove all the memories of Cass back to that dark corner of his brain where'd they resided before, in a tightly locked safe that he'd worked hard to learn to ignore. He swipes at his eyes angrily, wiping away unshed tears. He hasn't cried over Cass since he was a child, and he's damned if he's going to start now. He doesn't need to—he got over it.The unexpected sight of an old picture brings back memories long forgotten, and Gladio's never been good at dealing with his emotions in the best of times. Written for the FFXV kink meme.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a second fill for a [prompt on the kink meme](http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1829064#cmt1829064). It already had one, but I was inspired when I saw it, and before I knew it I'd vomited 10K words onto Scrivener. Here's the prompt:
> 
> _"when Gladio was younger, he got fucked up._   
>  _maybe he got kidnapped, maybe a close family friend grew interested in Clarus' son, and decided to take advantage of Clarus' busy life._   
>  _the exact details are up to you, but what i'd like to see, is his past trauma coming back to him._   
>  _give me Gladio breaking down; give me the bros worrying their heads off, and give me some nice hurt/comfort._   
>  _(bonus point for non-con, because i guess that's my mood)"_
> 
> With that out of the way, I just have two things to say. One, **_heed the warnings_** , both the AO3 ones and the tags. This fic _does_ get descriptive. Partially because I'm just a sick fuck, I guess, and also because I really wanted to try and illustrate all of Gladio's confusion and conflicted feelings.
> 
> Two, my feelings for Gladio are mixed at best—a lot of it's due to chapter ten, but there are other reasons. I don't dislike him, but he's least my favourite chocobro. That said, I choked the fuck up a few times while writing this. So keep that in mind, I suppose.

"I feel like my feet are going to fall off," Prompto whines as they all trudge back to the Regalia. It's been a long day of hunts, and they're all tired, dirty, and hungry, more than ready to get to a motel or caravan where they can shower and collapse on soft, clean beds. Relatively speaking.

Noct gives him an amused look. "We'll just get Specs to sew them back on for you." 

Prompto makes a choking noise that's half aborted laughter, half disgust, even as Ignis gives the prince a withering glare. "I think not," he says dryly. "Prompto is more than capable of sewing his own feet back on." 

"You guys are mean," Prompto pouts, and then turns his attention to Gladio up ahead, calling out to him. "Hey, big guy! Come carry me the rest of the way!" 

Gladio simply grunts at him, not in the mood to join in the banter for once. "No." Behind him, there's silence for a moment, and then he hears Prompto whisper, "What's with him?" but he ignores it. He's been on edge all day, and for once taking his frustration out on rampaging beasts hasn't improved his mood. Tomorrow they're going to Lestallum to meet up with Iris, and though he's desperate to see his baby sister with his own eyes and reassure himself that she's okay, at the same time he's dreading it. He doesn't want to hear about what happened to Insomnia, or about how his dad is dead. Cor hadn't been able to confirm it like he had with the king's death, but Gladio's not stupid. His dad would have been right there next to King Regis, and if King Regis had been killed, then so had his dad. 

Soon enough they reach the Regalia, and Gladio climbs in the back with a sigh, ignoring Noctis' grumbles about how they're going to mess up the car with all the dirt and blood on them. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the seat, and stays that way all the way back to the chocobo ranch. 

* * *

Hearing about the attack from Iris is even harder than Gladio had expected it to be, though he's proud of Iris for keeping herself together and not breaking down during her recall. She might just turn into the toughest Amicitia yet. Afterwards, he stays behind as the others leave to go to their own room, and asks her about Clarus. The confirmation leaves a dull ache in his chest, even though he'd expected it. 

"Before we left the manor, I got something," she says shyly, going over to her bed. "It's not much, but... it was something small I could carry, and I thought it might be important enough..." 

Gladio watches curiously as she reaches under her pillow, clueless as to what she could have grabbed before fleeing, eyes widening in surprise when she pulls out an old but familiar photo album. She holds it out to him uncertainly, and he takes it carefully. He hasn't looked through it in _years_ , and he has no idea what sort of pictures might be in it. He hopes there's at least a few pictures of his dad. It would be nice to have one, though he's never been much of a picture guy. Prompto's constant photographing of everything is slowly changing that, though. 

"I thought you might want to look through it, maybe take a few pictures for the road," she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly. 

"Thanks," he says gruffly, wishing he knew how to better convey how touched he is by her thoughtfulness. He's never been good with his emotions, but of course his sister's grown up with him, and picks up on the unspoken words. Iris gives him a watery smile, sniffing lightly as she nods. He throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a sideways hug briefly. Then he heads to the room he's sharing with the other three. Prompto appears to be showering when he gets there, and Ignis is over by the small kitchenette, making them dinner. Noct's absorbed in his phone, and neither of them notices as he slides the album under the pillow he plans to claim for the night. 

He takes his turn in the shower after Prompto, and when he gets out Ignis has dinner ready. They're all quiet while they eat, still weighed down by the heaviness of their discussion earlier. Afterwards Prompto helps Ignis clean up, and then they all crawl into bed, not in the mood to stay up and play games like they normally might. 

The next morning they're all up early, and Iris offers to take them all on a tour of a city. It's clear she's trying to be cheerful after yesterday, but Gladio declines, even while making sure the rest of them still go. He wants a chance to look at the album in private before he gives it back to Iris, and this might be the only time he gets. Once they're all gone, and there's been enough time that he's sure Noct or Prompto won't come barging back in for anything forgotten, he pulls the album out and settles himself down on the bed, staring down at it. 

It's old and worn, the spine cracked, the material on the cover peeling in places, the corners bent. No one's added pictures to it since he was about thirteen, so he's surprised Iris even thought of it when Insomnia was being attacked, much less actually took the time to grab it. 

With a sigh, he opens it up, and flips idly through the pages, looking through the pictures with a curious sort of emotional detachment. Most are of him and Iris as children, and he doesn't remember them being taken. Some are of his dad, and make his throat tighten up with grief, so he doesn't linger over them too much, though he notes a few he'd like to take. He's maybe halfway through the album when he suddenly comes across one that makes bile rise in his throat and a rapid heartbeat start pounding in his chest. 

It's a picture of him and his old trainer, when he'd first started his more advanced training to prepare for joining the Crownsguard and being Noctis' shield. He'd been about ten or eleven at the time, he can no longer recall his exact age. It had been shortly after Noct had been attacked by that daemon, after he'd woken from his coma but before he and King Regis had left to go to Tenebrae. Gladio was supposed to have started that training with his dad, but _everyone_ had been too busy fussing over Noct at that time, his dad included, and so a trainer had been hired for him instead. 

_"He's an old friend of mine," Clarus says, ruffling his fingers through Gladiolus' hair fondly. "He'll take good care of you."_

_"Yes sir," Gladiolus mutters, swallowing down his resentment for the prince. It isn't the prince's fault he'd been attacked, and it isn't as if he's asking everybody to baby him. Still, his dad had_ promised _. It's so unfair. He knows complaining will get him nowhere though, so he follows his dad silently down to the Citadel's training hall, where his new trainer is already waiting. He's nothing like Gladiolus had been expecting—young looking, with thick brown hair pulled neatly back into a ponytail, and hazel eyes that look friendly and inviting. He's also tall and lithe, and a casual observer might think he could easily be snapped in half like a twig, but Gladiolus notes the muscles in his arms and knows there's strength lurking in them._

_"You must be Gladiolus Amicitia," he says, greeting Gladiolus warmly with a smile and dimples. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Your dad's been telling me some great things about your skill—he says you've got real promise."_

_Gladiolus flushes, privately pleased at the praise. His dad doesn't often offer praise, so to hear it even indirectly fills him with a sense of pride. "Thank you, sir," he says politely._

_"Ah, that's right, I've neglected to introduce myself! My name is Cassius, and please do use it. I much prefer it to sir, sir makes me feel old," he says with a wink, and Gladiolus smiles despite himself._

Gladio squeezes his eyes shut tight at the old memory, trying desperately to will it away before all the others he's worked so hard to not think about come rushing back. Unfortunately, it's too late, that one memory has opened the floodgates, and he remembers all of it with a sudden clarity he's successfully avoided for years. He remembers how his resentment for Noct had grown and grown as the prince had gotten worse and kept his dad busy running after the king, so that Gladio rarely spent time with his dad anymore. How Cassius—or Cass, as he'd eventually let Gladio call him—had constantly praised him and showered him with attention, and how he'd latched on to that attention, craving it. Cass had made him feel so _special_ , like he was even more important than the prince in Cass' eyes, and like Cass had really cared about him when no one else had seemed to. For awhile, he'd even had a secret fantasy that Cass was actually his real dad, and that had only grown as the man had started spending time with him outside of training, first just helping him with homework, but soon taking him out for dinner or ice cream, and eventually to Cass' apartment where they'd watch movies or play video games and Cass let him eat all the junk food his dad denied him. 

The first time had been at Cass' apartment during a movie. They'd been together on Cass' small couch, Gladio lying down on his back with his head in Cass' lap, turned just enough to see the screen. Cass had been absently running his fingers through his hair, and Gladio had hummed in contentment, enjoying the sensation. Clarus had never been one for a lot of physical affection—a manly clap on the shoulder was the most Gladio ever really got, maybe a hug for the _really_ important moments. Halfway through the movie though, Cass' hand had shifted. 

_"Cass?" Gladiolus asks, stiffening a bit uncertainly as the man's fingers leave his hair to start trailing softly down his bare chest, circling around his small nipples but never touching them. He'd spilled soda down his shirt earlier, and Cass had made him take it off so he could throw it in the wash. Gladiolus had thought nothing of it then, but now he really wishes he'd asked for one of Cass' shirts, even if it would be ridiculously large on him._

_"Hmm?" Cass looks down at him briefly, smiling gently. Gladiolus always loves it when Cass smiles at him. It's a real, genuine smile, one that Gladiolus has never seen directed at anyone else. It's meant just for him, and it warms his heart every time he sees it._

_"What are you doing?"_

_The smile drops, and with it, so does Gladiolus' stomach. He has the sense that he's upset the man, and immediately he feels bad. Cass is always so nice to him, he didn't mean to upset him. "Does it not feel good?" Cass asks him softly, pausing in his movements._

_Gladiolus hesitates, confused. It_ does _feel good, but it's weird too, though he's not sure why. No one's ever touched his chest before, at least not like_ that _, and it makes him a bit uncomfortable. He doesn't know if it's allowed. Is it something a dad would normally do? Gladiolus has no way of knowing. "It does, but..." he trails off, not sure how to put what he's feeling into words._

_"I just want to make you feel good," Cass whispers. "You deserve it. You're such a good boy, and you mean so much to me. I just want to show you how special you are."_

_At that, Gladiolus feels his face heat up. Cass' words make him feel dizzy, but in a good sort of way. No one's ever told him he was special before. Even though he's still not sure about it, he can't possibly deny Cass now. "Okay," he says quietly. He forces himself to relax when Cassius starts running his fingers around his nipples again, and tries to focus on the movie that's still playing on the small tv. The first time Cassius' rough, callused tips brush over one of his nipples, he jerks, both with surprise and at how good it feels. It makes him even more uncomfortable though, and yet he says nothing, not wanting to hurt the man's feelings again._

_Cass focuses on his nipples for awhile, alternating between them, and it's not long before they're hard little peaks standing up against his chest, the way they do sometimes when he's really cold. He's feeling funny all over, especially down in his underwear, and even though it also feels good, he isn't sure he likes it. It makes him feel a little ashamed, that Cassius is doing this nice thing for him, and he can't even be a good enough kid to appreciate it._

_When Cass' hand dips lower, edging under the waistband of his pants and skirting along his underwear, Gladiolus can't keep quiet anymore. "Cass—" he starts, his voice higher than normal. He's pretty sure now that this is_ wrong _. His dad had given him a talk about sex a few years ago, and most of it had went over his head, but his dad had been very firm about never letting a stranger touch him inappropriately, and Gladiolus is certain that touching his penis is inappropriate. Although, Cass isn't a stranger... he's not sure if the rules are the same if it's someone he knows. His dad hadn't said anything about that. And Cass has always been good to him._

_"Shh." Cass hushes him, actually putting a finger to Gladiolus' lips. "I just want to make you feel good," he repeats. "I promise, you'll like this. I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry."_

_Gladiolus worries at his lower lip, trying to figure out how to tell Cass he doesn't want this without making the man feel bad. Cass is just trying to be nice to him, and he feels terrible about rejecting it, but he really doesn't like all the conflicting feelings it's giving him. Cass takes his silence as consent, however, and slides his fingers underneath Gladio's underwear, his knuckles bumping up against Gladiolus' small erection. Gladiolus feels a jolt of pleasure rush through him, and can't help the gasp that escapes his lips. Cass looks down at him and smiles. "See?" he murmurs. "It's gonna feel great."_

_After that everything happens fast, and Gladiolus is too caught up in the rush of confusing emotions to remember to protest. He obediently lifts his hips when asked, and Cass tugs his pants and underwear down to his knees. The worn and scratchy fabric of the couch feels itchy against Gladiolus' now bare butt, and he resists the urge to scritch at it. There's a sudden rush of cool air from the AC vent across his groin, and it makes him shiver. He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The movie's playing on in the background, a dramatic car chase scene involving multiple wrecks and explosions, and the flickering light from the changing colours splays across Cass' face, reflecting in his eyes as he stares down at Gladiolus in the darkened room, an odd expression on his face that Gladiolus has never seen before. Then there's an audible swallow from the man as he reaches his hand back out and wraps it around Gladiolus' hard penis. Gladiolus remains silent, but he doesn't take his eyes off of Cass' face, even though he's confused and a little bit scared and his heart's pounding almost out of his chest._

_In a quick, smooth motion, Cass slides his hand up Gladiolus' penis, all the way to the tip of it, and then back down to the base, and Gladiolus' eyes flutter at the unexpected pleasure, a small moan escaping his lips. Cass does it over and over, and Gladiolus is torn between telling him to stop and to go faster, except that his breathing's speeding up and there's this weird pressure building up in his penis, he doesn't understand what it is, and then before he knows it there's fire licking along all the nerves in his body, and he's shuddering all over and crying out, turning sideways to bury his face in Cass' chest, overwhelmed with everything he's feeling both physically and mentally. For a moment he thinks he's going to cry, but no tears come._

_"Hmm, surprisingly still young enough to come dry," Cass says softly. "A late bloomer, perhaps?"_

_Gladiolus says nothing, not understanding the words and letting them wash over him as he slowly goes back to normal. "Can I get dressed now?" he asks a few minutes later. He feels dirty, even though he showered after training this afternoon._

_"Of course," Cass says warmly, smiling at him. Gladiolus returns it automatically, but for the first time, it feels empty. He pulls his clothes back up and then sits up, hunching over on the couch and pretending to watch the movie until it's over and Cass finally takes him home. He wants to tell his dad, but his dad's busy helping King Regis and Prince Noctis prepare to go to Tenebrae, and isn't at the manor. The resentment bubbles up again, and he starts to think that maybe what Cass did wasn't so bad. Cass was just trying to be nice, even if he didn't exactly like it, and at least he was paying attention to Gladiolus, unlike anybody else. When his dad finally gets home around midnight, Gladiolus is still awake, lying in bed with his hair still damp from his second shower, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about what Cass had done. His dad peeks in his room to check on him, and he pretends to be asleep. He tells his dad nothing._

Eyes burning with tears he refuses to let fall, Gladio shakily turns the page of the album, wanting to get away from the sight of Cassius' smiling face, and the horrible memory he's just relived. Unfortunately, another picture of the two of them greets him, taken during a training session on one of the rare times his dad had spared a few minutes to come and watch. It had been a couple of months after Cassius' abuse had started, and even in a still photograph Gladio can see the effects of it on his body—he's thinner than he had any right to be with all of the training he'd done daily, and there are permanent dark circles under his eyes. His hair falls limp and greasy about his face—he's pretty sure this picture was taken a few weeks after he'd stopped showering, when he'd developed a strong aversion to them after Cass had performed oral on him for the first time during a shower. That had also been the first time he hadn't orgasmed dry. Cass had been so proud of him, and he'd soaked in the praise desperately, even as he'd tried not to throw up from what had just happened. 

The sound of a keycard in the door makes Gladio jerk, and he slams the photo album shut, sliding it under the nearest pillow before he jumps up and rushes to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it just as he hears the other one open, Noct and Prompto's chatter fast filling the room. Gladio leans against the closed door, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself and shove all the memories of Cass back to that dark corner of his brain where'd they resided before, in a tightly locked safe that he'd worked hard to learn to ignore. He swipes at his eyes angrily, wiping away unshed tears. He hasn't cried over Cass since he was a child, and he's damned if he's going to start now. He doesn't need to—he got over it. 

He keeps breathing deep, steadying himself, and eventually he feels okay enough to go out and face the guys. He flushes the toilet to make it seem like he'd come in for a reason, then washes his hands and opens the door. 

"Hey big guy!" Prompto greets him cheerfully, bouncing back up from his bed in eagerness. "You really should have come with us, Lestallum is amazing! They have so many cool shops, and the market is _huge_ , and oh, I saw this place that sells a really delicious looking root beer you'd probably like..." 

Gladio grins at Prompto, letting his excited words wrap around him, bringing a sense of normalcy and stability that he desperately needs. He still feels sick from the onslaught of earlier memories, but they're just distant enough for him to pretend he's fine. 

"Oh, and Talcott gave us a tip!" Prompto says happily. 

"A tip?" Gladio asks, frowning slightly. What sort of tip could a little kid possibly have for them? 

"Might be a royal tomb in a cave behind a waterfall. There's one nearby," Noct says. 

"We gonna check it out?" 

"That's the plan." 

"Sounds good," Gladio says. He means it, too. Beating shit up is his kind of therapy. "We going now?" 

"No time like the present," Ignis remarks, and Gladio grins, a touch vicious. 

"Let's go then." 

* * *

When they get back to the Leville that night, Gladio's so tired that he thinks he could collapse right there and not get up until the next afternoon. He skips his shower, ignoring Ignis' disapproving glare, and after forcing himself to eat he crawls into the bed, in the spot closest to the door, and closes his eyes. He listens to the others getting ready for bed, senses the room darken as one of them turns off the lights, feels the bed dip as Ignis gets in next to him, and expects to drop off any minute. 

But sleep doesn't come. Now that he's not busy fighting to defend Noct's life, thoughts of Cass are once more filling his head, and with them comes all the old emotions he's had buried for years. He's hated himself for so long, for being so pathetic to let Cass abuse him just because he was jealous of all the attention Noctis got, for not telling Cass no, for not telling his dad after that first time... There's a hundred different ways it's always been his fault that it happened, and he's been ashamed of himself for it ever since that very first incident. More so, he's ashamed that he let it continue, that he let it keep escalating until he didn't have a single shred of innocence left. 

But Cassius had always made him feel so bad about wanting to say no, telling him he wanted Gladio to feel special, to feel loved, to show him how much he meant to Cass... how could he have possibly said no to that? He'd always felt so ungrateful for not liking it. And Cass had been very good about leaving him confused on whether it was wrong or not. He'd just been heading into puberty, and even though he'd hated it, it had felt good, and Cass was always murmuring to him about how hard he was, how much he must want it... 

_"Cass—"_

_"Shh, Gladiolus, I won't hurt you, I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel."_

_Gladiolus swallows back his tears at those words, and lets Cass continue to use his mouth on Gladiolus' nipples, alternating between sucking on them and licking them with his tongue. It's warm, wet heat all over, and it's nothing like Gladiolus has experienced yet, and he hates how good it feels. He can feel his penis—his dick, as Cass had told him to call it from now on—growing hard in his underwear, and he bites back a sob. Why is he getting hard, he doesn't_ want _this, at least he doesn't think so..._

_Cass shifts to straddle him, careful to make sure his weight doesn't crush him, and Gladiolus can feel Cass' hardness pressing against his own. "I can feel how hard you are for me, Gladiolus," Cass murmurs softly in his ear. "I can tell by your hardness that you want this so much, you're loving it. You're such a good boy, I'm going to make it feel amazing for you."_

_Gladiolus remains silent, wondering if Cass is right. If he truly didn't want it, then he wouldn't have gotten hard, right? He thinks that's how his dad had explained it to him a few years ago, and it matches up with what Cass is telling him now. So even if he hates it, he must want it._

_Cassius moves then, slowly rolling his hips to rock against Gladiolus, eliciting a low, involuntarily moan from him as pleasure glides along the nerves in his body. Cass reaches out, scraping his nails gently across Gladiolus' nipples, causing his eyes to flutter as he curls his fingers into the bedsheets, overwhelmed by the simultaneous sensations assaulting his body. It makes him feel so dirty and wrong, and when Cass leans forward, pressing rough lips against his mouth, he turns his head._

_"Gladiolus, don't you like me?" Cass asks softly as he pulls back, hurt flooding his tone._

_He jerks his head back at that, eyes flying open in shock. "I do!" he cries. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it's just..." he lets the words fade out, unable to say what he's really feeling._

_"It's okay," Cass says. "It's still new. You'll love it soon enough." He thrusts against him, using more pressure this time, repeating the motion faster, and Gladiolus' breath speeds up, gasping out of him in wet little bubbles. Cass leans down again, covering Gladiolus' mouth with his own, hungrily sucking down the noises he's making. Gladiolus allows it, feeling sick. He misses the way things used to be between them, when he imagined Cass being his dad, and the two of them would have fun together, eating junk food and watching movies, and sometimes even going to the park and 'camping' all day, though they could never stay overnight. Now Cass only ever wants to do things like this, and he dreads the time they spend together. He misses his real dad._

_His eyes glitter with unshed tears as Cass finally lets up on his mouth, but Cass is humping against him rapidly now, and there's that familiar tightening in his stomach and balls that he hates, the one that means he's going to 'come' soon, as Cass always calls it. "Cass," he cries, always hoping that Cass will stop before it happens, but the man never does._

_"Shh, let it happen. Come for me, Gladiolus," Cass says, grinding down on him, and the friction quickly proves to be too much. He can tell that Cassius follows moments after, groaning and pressing him down into the mattress, his fingers digging bruisingly into Gladiolus' hips._

_Afterwards, he lies limply on the bed, drained and still trembling slightly. Cass smiles at him, and tells him how good he is, but he only feels empty._

"Fuck," he whispers softly, knowing the other three men are all asleep by now. He's beginning to wish Iris had never grabbed that damn photo album. He remembers now why he hadn't looked through it in years. His chest feels tight with an ache for his younger, stupid self, and his eyes are shining with tears he refuses to acknowledge. He feels shaky, and the more he remembers the things Cass did to him, the more he feels himself turning back into that little boy, too afraid to be assertive and go against anyone with authority, and too weak in both body and mind to defend himself against Cass' manipulations. 

Suddenly angry, he has to mightily resist the urge to roll over and throw a hard punch into the mattress. If he does, he'll wake Ignis up, and he has no idea how to explain this to any of them, or any desire to. It's been a secret ever since it happened, and the thought of changing that terrifies him. Besides, he's not weak now. Cassius eventually left, his job done, and Gladio had thrown himself headlong into his training, determined to never let anyone take advantage of him like that again, and wanting to be as strong as possible so he could protect himself in case anyone tried. It had taken him years, but he'd slowly locked away what Cass had done to him, and gained muscle, and with it strength, and had made damned sure no one ever hurt him again. He'd moved on, and he's not going to let it come back and tear him apart now. 

Somehow, he finally manages to fall asleep, but it's filled with nightmares of Cassius, and when he wakes to Ignis' alarm in the morning he feels even more exhausted. He drags himself into the bathroom and turns on the shower, making the water run as hot as he can stand it, and strips down, hoping the warmth will soothe away the aches of his poor sleep and ease some of his tension. 

And yet, he can't bring himself to step into the tub. It's been years since he was afraid of showering, but now he stands just outside it, shower curtain pulled partially back, stark naked and paralysed with fear as he stares at the water beating down inside. There's nothing there, and he knows it, but in his mind he can see Cassius and his younger self. He's got his back pressed up against the wall at the end of the tub, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. Cassius is on his knees in front of him, water slicking his hair and making it trail low down his back. He's got his mouth wrapped around Gladio's dick, cheeks hollowed and head bobbing as he sucks and licks. There are tears running down Gladio's face non-stop, and older Gladio remembers the overpowering sense of _wrong, bad, dirty_ he'd felt, red-hot shame washing over him in intense waves. 

His stomach lurches, and he drops to his knees in front of the toilet, but nothing actually comes up. After a moment he stands on shaky legs and shuts the shower off, electing to use the sink and a washcloth to get the worst of yesterday's grime off. Ignis raises an eyebrow at his obviously not-wet hair when he finally leaves the bathroom, but he ignores the other man, dropping wearily down into a chair and pulling out his phone. 

He can already tell it's going to be a long day. 

* * *

The day's even longer than Gladio had expected, and even though they haven't said anything, he can tell the other three men are worried about him, with how many times he'd fucked up in battle, dropping swings he should have had, leaving himself wide open for hits he'd normally easily avoid, missing Noct's cues to team up and attack. Noct, especially, has been glancing constantly over at him during the ride back to Lestallum, and even though he knows Noct has every right, it's starting to grate on Gladio's nerves. It wasn't as if he could help his poor behaviour during battles—the lack of sleep combined with the distraction of trying _not_ to keep thinking about Cassius had easily put him off his game, not that he can _tell_ Noctis that. 

On the way back to the Leville, Gladio spots a small building tucked away down one of the side alleys, and makes an impulse decision, not caring that it's probably a bad one. He just wants to forget everything again, if only for awhile. "Hey," he says, grabbing the others' attention. "Who wants to hit up that bar over there?" 

"Ooh, me, me!" Prompto cries gleefully, throwing a hand up in the air. He's still new enough to being legal that drinking is still a novelty, and Gladio knows it. Had counted on it, in fact. 

Noct shrugs, looking between the two men, and Gladio carefully avoids the concern glittering in his blue eyes. "Sure," Noct says easily. "A few drinks might be just what we need after today." 

Ignis sighs, crossing his arms and shaking his head, though Gladio can tell he's not as displeased as he's affecting. "I suppose I'm outnumbered." 

Noct grins at him. "Sorry, Specs." 

Prompto darts down the alleyway towards the entrance of the bar, calling impatiently over his shoulder. "Hurry up, slowpokes!" 

Gladio allows a smile to steal over his face, and follows after him. After a moment, Ignis and Noct do the same. 

When they get in, the bar's little more than a hole in the wall, with no decor to speak of and looking as if it hasn't been updated since the early 700s when it was likely built. There's only a handful of people there, all older men except for the two middle-aged ones playing pool at one of the two tables. An ancient looking jukebox is against the far wall, half its neon lights busted, creaking out a static-filled slow rock song. A faded menu above the long bar counter lists typical greasy bar food. The bar's a little warm, a few ceiling fans swirling in lazy circles and succeeding only in pushing the hot air around. Right now, it suits Gladio perfectly. He leads them to one of the tilted round wooden tables near a corner away from both the pool tables and the jukebox, carefully settling his large frame onto one of the rickety looking stools. 

A young woman soon comes over to take their orders, wearing a revealing tank and skimpy shorts that remind him of Cindy. Immediately she begins flirting with him, and taking every opportunity to lean over and give him an ample view of her well-endowed bosom. Normally Gladio would enjoy both the sight and the attention, and reciprocate happily in the hopes of having a partner for the evening, but tonight he's not in the mood—the thought of sex with anyone right now makes him feel nauseous. 

When his beer arrives, he downs half of it in one go, raising eyebrows around the table. "You okay, big guy?" Prompto asks cautiously. 

He downs the other half and slams the empty bottle on the table, grinning a little sickly at the kid. "Perfect." 

The waitress—he thinks her name is Molly, or Sally, something like that—sashays back over to their table, bending down with an exaggerated motion to pick up Gladio's empty bottle, making sure he gets an eyeful. "Get you another, honey?" she asks with a wink, and he nods. 

Six beers and a few shots later, his head is swimming unpleasantly and he worries he's going to be sick. He normally has no problem holding his liquor, but he also doesn't normally drink on an empty stomach, either. This just might have been a mistake. He staggers up from the table, muttering something to the others about fresh air, and makes his way outside, leaning against the wall of the alley opposite the entrance, taking deep breaths and trying not to barf everything back up. Instead of helping him forget, the alcohol has brought the memories of Cassius swirling back to the front of his mind, his soft, gentle voice echoing in his head. Worse, it's the one memory he's never wanted to think of again—the time Cassius had completely taken the last bit of innocence from him. 

"You alright, hon?" 

Gladio looks up in surprise. Molly—or Sally, he's still not sure—is standing just outside the bar, looking at him worriedly. Or at least he thinks she is, given that her face is a little blurry to him at the moment. "Fine," he says gruffly. 

She walks over to him, placing a hand gently on his arm. The touch makes his skin crawl, but he doesn't want to be rude or make a scene, so he says nothing. "Honey, if I can be blunt, you look like you're about ta fall over. Or lose your supper." 

"I'm fine," he insists, though she's not wrong. Her hand is still on his arm, and it's beginning to make him feel panicky, so he shifts his body some, moving his arm away and trying to make it look it natural. 

"Sugar, you're sweating," she points out. "You sick?" 

"No. Just a bit too much to drink," he says shortly. He really wants her to go back inside, but right now he feels more like that scared little boy Gladiolus than the tough, grown up Gladio, and he can't bring himself to ask her to leave. It's a little like Cass all over again—she's just trying to be nice, but he doesn't like it. He's ungrateful, as always. 

"You sure?" she asks, doubt clear in her voice. "Here, lemme feel your temperature." 

"No, I—" but she's already leaning against him, reaching her hand up to his forehead, and she's just short enough that she needs to stand on her tiptoes, her large breasts pressing tightly against his chest, and he can feel her hard nipples digging into him. She's not just being nice. 

He stands there as she feels his forehead, frozen in shock, unable to really process what's happening. "You don't feel warm," she murmurs to him. "But I got somethin' that might fix ya right up." Her lips brush across his, soft and slow as she presses closer to him, her hand fumbling to cup his thankfully still limp dick through his pants, and it's enough for him to regain his senses. He rips away from her, feeling violated and even more nauseous, stumbling back a few steps as he roars at her. "Get the hell away from me!" A few more steps, and then he's throwing up everything he's drank in the past hour, acrid liquid spattering on the pavement in front of him, shredding and burning his throat as he heaves deep from his gut. 

Molly-Sally's eyes widen as she stares at him, and then she whirls without a word and goes back inside. He pays her no mind, and as soon as he stops vomiting he starts making his way for the Leville. The other guys will probably worry when they realise he's ditched them, but he just needs to be alone for awhile. He can't be around them like this. 

By some miracle he makes it back to the hotel safely, and up to the room the four of them share. He closes the door and begins to head towards the bed, just wanting to lay down and sleep everything away, but he only makes it a few steps when suddenly he's sinking down to the carpet, and before he knows it sobs are ripping out of his sore throat as the events that just happened hit him full force. He'd let someone take him advantage of him again, because he was too cowardly to speak up and just say no. His fault—it's always his fault. Tears flood his face, and he brings his hands up, burying his head in them as he cries. He hates himself for losing it like this, but he's too far gone to stop, his whole body shuddering all over from the force of his loud sobs as he rocks back and forth, unable to calm himself down. There's an intense ache in his chest, making it feel tight, and hard to breathe. 

Cass' voice is in his mind again, whispering that it's okay, that he's going to make Gladiolus feel good, _really_ good, and he can almost feel the phantom touches of Cass' hands running all along his body. 

_"It might hurt a little at first, Gladiolus, but I promise, it will feel really good soon. You'll love it."_

_"Cass, I don't know..." Gladiolus whimpers, shivering. He's naked on Cass' bed again, but the room isn't cold—he's just afraid. He doesn't want to try whatever Cass has in mind, and he hopes that maybe this time, Cass will finally stop._

_Instead, Cass simply ignores him, trailing a lubed finger up his inner thigh and under his balls, seeking until he finds the small hole he's looking for. Gladiolus jerks as Cass rubs his finger around it, pushing in ever so slightly. It feels weird, more weird than anything they've ever done, and even more dirty and wrong. Then there's a sharp pain as the finger spears inside him in one sudden move, and he can't help the cry that bursts from him lips. "No!"_

_Cass looks up at him, his face sad, but there's a warning in his voice when he says "Gladiolus..."_

_"I don't want to do this, Cass. Please," Gladiolus says, and lets out a sob before he can force it back._

_"It won't hurt for long," Cass says, and then begins to thrust his finger in and out, slowly at first but soon building up speed. It doesn't stop hurting—it's tight, and far too dry despite the lubrication, and it feels as if he's being stabbed and torn with every single thrust. It only gets worse when Cass adds a second finger, and he's crying in earnest now, chanting_ no no no no no _over and over, but Cass never lets up._

_He's relieved when the fingers finally leave, but then Cass gets between his legs, lifting them up against his chest, angling him awkwardly, and suddenly the pain's a hundred times worse, and Gladiolus actually_ screams _, loud, the sound reverberating around the room before Cass slaps a hand across his mouth. "It's okay, Gladiolus," he murmurs, almost feverishly. "It's gonna feel good soon, it's gonna make you harder than you've ever been before, you're gonna come so hard for me..." He uses his other hand to gather up Gladiolus' wrists, pinning them to the mattress, stretched painfully above his head._

_Gladiolus feels his tears dripping down his cheeks, gathering around Cass' fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that Cass' penis is inside him, and it's ripping him apart as the man starts thrusting, setting a brutal pace from the start, and he's never felt more violated in his life._

"I hate you," he chokes out through the sobs, and he doesn't know if he's talking to Cass or himself. The horrible memory makes everything worse, and he feels ungrounded, and a bit hysterical. He can't stop the recall flashing through his mind, and it hurts so much—it's too much for him to bear. Even though it's been years, he feels Cass' hands wrapped around his wrists, gripping tight, hurting him. He lets out a pained cry, and begins clawing at the left one with the fingers of his right, digging into the flesh, drawing blood as he tries to make it all disappear. 

"Gladio, stop," a soft voice commands firmly, and then gentle hands are tugging at his right wrist, pulling it carefully away from his left one. For one terrified moment he thinks it's Cass, and he cries out, trying to pull away, but then Ignis' face comes into his field of view, blurry through his tears, and he stops, allowing the movement. 

"Iggy," he gasps, and he's only dimly aware that his breathing has turned more rapid upon spotting his companion—all he really knows is that there's a tight band on his chest, squeezing and constricting painfully. 

"Gladio, you're having a panic attack," he hears Ignis says calmly, and some part of his brain is still cognizant enough to go, _yes, of course, a panic attack, that makes sense_. "You need to take slow, deep breaths." 

"Iggy, that's not gonna help him," Noct grouses. 

"It's exactly what he should do to calm a panic attack," Ignis says defensively. 

"Yes, I _know_ , but—" there's frustration in Noct's voice "—never mind. Gladio. Gladio!" Noct waits until Gladio focuses his attention on his charge, as much as he can in his panicked state, before he goes on. "You know how you're always telling me it's your job to focus for me when I'm upset? This time I'm going to do it for you. Just follow along with my breathing, okay? Don't think about anything else, just listen to my breathing and copy it." 

Prompto chimes in, briefly. "Trust him, big guy. I used to get panic attacks all the time and Noct always brought me out of them." 

Gladio manages a nod, then tries desperately to do as Noct says—and it's hard at first, trying to mimic Noct's slow, exaggerated breaths through his panicked sobs, but gradually the deep breaths become easier, and eventually his breathing's steady again, though the tears are still running down his cheeks in a constant stream. He avoids looking up at his friends. He feels drained, and so incredibly embarrassed. He knows he's going to have to tell them now, and he dreads their reactions. Will Noct still want him as a shield, when he realises how weak and pathetic Gladio really is? A stray sob escapes him at the thought, but he chokes the rest down, too worn out to get back into another panic attack. 

"Prompto, can you bring me the first aid kit?" Ignis requests softly. 

"Sure thing," Prompto says, his voice equally soft. 

Gladio sits limply, watching passively as Ignis gently lifts his injured wrist into his lap, inspecting the gouges. They're a bit deeper than Gladio would have expected, but he can tell they're not serious. He's ashamed of them nonetheless. He hadn't mean to hurt himself, he'd just wanted Cass' touch to go away. At that reminder, he shudders, once, and then goes still again. Ignis glances up at him, and Gladio meets his gaze. Ignis' green eyes are full of warmth and concern, but Gladio can't bear them. He looks away, back down at his wrist. 

"They're not too bad," Ignis says, still speaking in a quiet tone. He gets some antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit Prompto's brought, tearing open one of the packages and lowering it gently to the scratches. Gladio winces at the initial sting, but otherwise allows Ignis to clean them without protest. After that Ignis gets a gauze pad out and places it against the scratches, getting Prompto to hold it in place while he wraps a roll of gauze around it, using his sewing scissors to neatly snip the excess off, finishing it off with a piece of gauze tape to hold it in place. 

"Thank you," Gladio says hoarsely, though he still doesn't look at any of them. He's humiliated that they've seen him break down now. He wonders what brought them all back so early, how they'd known he'd left. 

As if reading his mind, Noct speaks up. "That waitress that kept flirting with you, she came and told us you got sick. When we went outside to find you, you were already gone." 

Gladio can't hold back another shudder at the mention of Molly-Sally. He's learned to enjoy sex with both women and men despite his abuse, but he's always been in control of the situation, always consented to it up front. Tonight there had been neither of those things. 

"What happened?" Noct asks seriously. 

Gladio lets out a shaky breath, bringing his uninjured hand up to wipe at his eyes. His tears had finally stopped while Ignis had been bandaging him, but his face is still soaked with the remnants. He sniffles a few times, but doesn't speak yet. He still doesn't have a clue how to start, but more than that, he's afraid, plain and simple. Big, tough, Gladio, the man who never cries, never shows fear or sadness, brought undone and reduced to the point of tears by memories of a man he hasn't seen for half his life. How can they possibly respect him after this? 

"Gladio," Ignis says, in a tone that makes Gladio force himself to meet Ignis' eyes and hold them, though it leaves him feeling vulnerable. "If it's something personal, and you really wish not to tell us, then we won't pry, but know that we're all just worried for you, and would never judge you for whatever has upset you so." 

Gladio casts his eyes to the right, where Prompto's rocking back on his haunches anxiously. Prompto grins at him, though he's twisting his fingers in the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah! I mean, you're our friend, and we care, you know? Whatever it is, it's not gonna scare us away!" 

A firm nod from Noct to his left tells him that the prince feels the same way, even if he's not capable of expressing it in words. 

He wants to believe them all, he really does, but right now they have no clue what they're hastily promising not to judge, and he fully expects them to change their mind once he tells them. The thought cuts deep, even though he can't bring himself to blame them. It's his fault alone. He's never been strong enough. "There's a book under my pillow," he says hoarsely, and after a hesitant moment Noct gets up and goes over to the bed, pulling the album out with a look of confusion on his face. He tries to hand it over to Gladio, but Gladio shakes his head at him. He doesn't want to touch it anymore. "Open it," he says. 

Noct does, his expression not clearing any when he sees the old pictures. He sinks back down to the floor, arranging himself so Prompto and Ignis can see, and then looks over at his shield. "What am I looking for?" 

"Towards the middle." By the Six, does his throat hurt. He's not going to be able to talk for the next day or two, not that it's necessarily a bad thing. He's just glad that the effects of the alcohol have mostly left him. 

Noct grabs a hefty stack of pages and turns them over, and then flips slowly through the rest of the photos until Gladio sees the second one of him and Cassius, the one his dad had taken during training, and stops him. "There." 

"This one?" Noct asks, pointing to it, and Gladio nods. He sees the three of them glance at each other, clearly not certain why this picture had their oldest and least emotional friend sobbing hysterically in the middle of the hotel room floor. 

"Who is it?" Prompto finally dares to ask him. 

"He was tasked with training me, preparing me to join the Crownsguard in a few years from then and start their rigorous training, so that I could one day train Noct and be his shield. His name was Cassius," Gladio says quietly, swallowing hard as he says Cass' name out loud for the first time in years. 

"Ah yes, I recall seeing the two of you around the palace sometimes, before our paths crossed," Ignis says, absently adjusting his glasses. Gladio knows he tends to do that when he's uncertain, or can't get a grasp of the full picture of something. "You seemed quite close." 

"We were, once, I..." he stops, shuddering again. He's never had to talk about it before, and it's unbelievably hard, harder than he ever could have imagined. He tips his head down at the picture. "What do you see when you look at me?" he asks instead. 

The three of them are quiet, studying the picture intently. 

"You're really thin," Prompto says at last. "Maybe too thin? It's weird, I've never seen you without all those muscles. I always thought you were born with them," he adds, trying for a joke. 

Gladio offers him a weak smile, though he's not feeling the humour at the moment. "Sorry to disappoint." 

"You're tired," Noct says. "Those circles under your eyes say you haven't slept properly in weeks. And your hair looks really dirty, though I guess that's from the training." 

Gladio shakes his head. "I hadn't showered in a few weeks when that picture was taken." 

Noct raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. There's more quiet, and then Ignis speaks up. "You look haunted," he says softly. "As if the weight of the world is on your shoulders, and you're falling apart underneath it. How old are you in this picture?" 

Gladio swallows heavily again, this time trying to force the sudden lump in his throat to leave. He blinks back more threatening tears as he answers. "Around ten or eleven. This was during Noct's time in Tenebrae." His friends can see it so clearly, even in an old and somewhat fading photograph. Why couldn't his dad, or a maid, or _anyone_ who'd spent time around him then? 

"What happened?" Ignis asks, almost in an undertone. Gladio can see the wheels in his head turning, can see that Ignis is starting to piece things together. Ignis has already guessed that he'd experienced some sort of trauma, though he's pretty sure the other man hasn't figured out what yet, or the extent of it. 

"My dad was supposed to be the one to train me," Gladio says in lieu of an answer. He knows the guys are probably confused still, and wanting a clearer answer, but they remain patient, letting him talk and get it out in his own way. "But then Noct got injured, and he was too busy. So he hired Cassius." He does his best to keep his voice level, and the old resentment out of it, but judging by the look Noct shoots him, he doesn't quite succeed. "He... he made me feel special. Like I mattered, when no one else had time for me. He paid attention to me, when I was desperate for someone to. I was so _stupid_." His voice cracks, and he feels ashamed. He looks down at the bandage on his wrist and is overcome with an urge to rip the gauze off and do even more damage to it, overwhelmed with hatred for himself. 

Everyone's silent for a few moments, and Gladio feels more tears run down his face. He hates himself even more for being so weak, and his right hand flexes involuntarily, wanting to tear into his skin. Ignis places his hand over Gladio's injured wrist then, gently, and Gladio raises red-rimmed eyes, seeing the pain he feels reflected back at him in Ignis' green irises. "It's not worth it," Ignis whispers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and nods before brushing the tears away and continuing. 

"At first Cass just trained me, like he was hired to do. But soon he started spending his free time with me, tutoring me, taking me out for a treat. Eventually he started taking me to his apartment. Just the two of us. It was there that he started... he would... for months, over a year really, he... to me..." He can't do it, can't bring himself to say the words, to spell it out. But he doesn't need to, because he can tell the others get it. Ignis' face falls, and Noct's quietly angry, clenching his fists against his legs. Prompto's staring at him, shock etched into his features. Gladio sits tensely, waiting for one of them to do something more. 

It's Prompto who breaks first, his face crumpling up as he lets out a sob, a few tears sliding out from his eyes. Then he's throwing himself at Gladio, flinging his strong arms around him in a tight hug, burying his face against Gladio's chest as he cries. Gladio sits rigidly in surprise at first, and then he slowly lets himself relax as he realises that through his blubbering, Prompto is speaking. "I'm sorry," he's saying. "I'm so sorry, Gladio, you didn't deserve to have that happen, I'm sorry..." 

When another set of arms wraps around him and Prompto from the side, he starts, and turns his head in time to see Ignis press his face into the hollow of Gladio's shoulder. Gladio is blown away to realise that Ignis is trembling, ever so slightly, and he can feel the man's unsteady breaths ghosting warm against his skin. A few seconds after that, hesitant arms circle around him from behind, and then he feels Noct's head rest against his back. "Prompto's right," Noct mutters to him. "You didn't deserve to have that creep hurt you like that. You were just a kid. Don't blame yourself." 

"I blamed you too," Gladio admits hoarsely, deeply ashamed. "For getting hurt and taking everyone's attention, even though it wasn't your fault. I hated you for so long." 

"You were just a kid," Noct repeats, his arms tightening. "And you realised eventually." 

"Sexual abuse is only the fault of the abuser," Ignis murmurs. "It matters not what sort of reactions you had to his abuse, or what he might have said. He is the only one to blame." 

He can't help the resulting shudder at their words. He doesn't feel absolved from the blame he's placed on himself so long, but their quiet confidence makes him feel as if he _could_ be, one day. It's a start. 

They all fall quiet then, even Prompto's desperate babbling slowly tapering off. Gladio can feel himself relaxing more under the comforting warmth and security of his friends, the fear leaving him as he begins to understand they're not disgusted by him, or think him pathetic and weak. He starts getting sleepy, his eyes growing heavy, and sighs, knowing he should probably move from the floor to the bed, though he's quite content in his present position. Perhaps one small part of the young Gladiolus hadn't been completely wiped out by Cassius—his friends' current intimacy has made him realise he's never quite outgrown the need for physical affection, no matter what sort of tough guy image he puts on. 

"I don't mean to break this moment up, but perhaps we should all move to the bed?" Ignis asks, ever attuned to Gladio's needs. 

Gladio nods, exhaustion crashing over him in waves now. Still, they all remain in their hold for a little longer before Ignis pulls away with obvious reluctance, climbing to his feet and helping the others up. While the others take turns brushing their teeth and doing whatever else they need to get ready, Gladio simply strips down to his boxer-briefs and crawls into the center of one of the beds, laying on his back as he stares at the ceiling. He wants to sleep, but he's afraid to close his eyes. He doesn't want nightmares, and he doesn't want to wake up in the morning and find his friends' acceptance was all just a cruel dream. 

The bed dipping with the weight of an added person jolts him from his thoughts before they can really take a morbid turn, and then Ignis is pressing in against his left side, laying on _his_ side, resting an arm on Gladio's chest, his fingers curled into Gladio's shoulder. He's wearing only an old thin t-shirt and his boxers, and normally Gladio would raise his eyebrows, but right now it feels okay. Then Prompto's curling up into his right side, tucking himself into a foetal position, ruffling his fingers through Gladio's chest hair and making a satisfied noise as Gladio brings his arm to wrap around Prompto. He's wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and Gladio knows it'll get sticky with sweat throughout the night, but he can't bring himself to really mind. Noct looks at the three of them for a moment, wearing only boxers—which makes Gladio's eyes raise, just a bit, as Noct's always been self-conscious about the scar on his back—and then he turns off the light, and Gladio feels him crawling onto the bed. Then Noct's crawling onto _him_ , letting his legs slide down to tangle into Prompto's while he cuddles his upper body into Gladio's chest, resting his head over Gladio's heart. Gladio brings his left arm up, careful not to jostle Ignis as he lays his hand on Noct's head, mindful of his injured wrist. 

"Night guys," Prompto mumbles, his voice already thick with sleep. 

"Good night," Ignis says softly, letting out a breathy little sigh of contentment. Noct makes a noise that may or not be a word, and reaches down to pull just the thin sheet over them. 

Gladio waits a beat, and then speaks. "Thank you," he says, his voice a quiet rumble in the room. None of them audibly respond, but all three of them press up closer against him, just a little, and he feels loved by their presence, and safe from anything that might want to hurt him. Finally, Gladio allows his eyes to close, and slips off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little nervous to post this one, so any thoughts or comments would be appreciated. I hope it's not too terrible ;;


End file.
